Congelo
by That Endless Mania
Summary: AU. Previously known as Blinding Snow. Allen Walker's plane crashes onto the Alps. Against all odds he survives. Allen sets on a treacherous journey for survival... and meets unexpected company. Yullen.
1. The icy cold aftermath

**OMGWHATAMIDOINGHERE D: -BANGS ON KEYBOARD AND WATCHES AS THE KEYS FLY TO MADAGASCAR-**

**I promised not to ever scar any more of you People Of The Internet but the computer just drew me here. Utter blesphemy! D:**

**Rewritten Chapter 1 of Blinding Snow, it's up to you guys to decide if I have truly reformed. Either that, or I have continued in my harrowing scheme in making everyone's innards decay/ shrivel/ wither and die. **

**We (Er, I) picture an entirely new scene:**

**Allen, 15, apprentice to a wine maker (Cross) has just received news that his foster father (Mana) was incredily ill. He boards on the first plane available in hope to see Mana for one last time but as fate would have it, the plane crashed halfway and lands neatly in the Alps. I have come to the terms that I have absolutely no talent for writing anything canon. This is unshamedly AU. :D**

**Viva la vida!**

* * *

**_Prologue  
The icy cold aftermath_**

* * *

Heaven wasn't cold.

Allen knew that because heaven was a place the good people went to, and God would never let the good guys get cold. But Allen could distinctly feel the numbing coldness crushing his body. Somehow he'd imagined the Garden of Eden to be much warmer than this.

Allen coughed. A dry, chest heaving cough that threatened to rid him of his possibly shrivelled lungs. He opened his eyes.

_I can't see_

White. White stung. White blinded. Allen felt his eyes blaze with the crisp, gleaming whiteness surrounding him. As his senses finally woke up along with him Allen started feeling the pain. Pain that throbbed on his arms, seared through his legs, mushroomed at various parts of his body and ate at his face. Pain that he was beyond his treshold, pain that he had yet to experience; pain that was dull and throbbing, sharp and excruciating at the same time. His throat felt unbelievably parched; it was as if someone had took great care to sandpaper over every inch of his oesophagus it till it burned acridly. His mouth tasted metallic, amaroidal, and there was a lump of something very bloody, foul and mephitic in it. He tried to spit it out. He couldn't.

It was his tongue.

It hurt to move. It hurt to breate. It hurt to _be_.

Allen grunted. If it was possible, even his eyelashes hurt. He blinked, once, twice, three times, and his eyes slowly adjusted to the white that was dominating the surroundings. Contours of object slowly began to sharpen themselves, and he started to make out the different shades of colours.

_The crash_

The plane. The crash. The plane crash. Snippets of his memories gradually awakened to him. Him... Mana... Mana... Him...

_Mana._

Allen forced himself to sit up, which proved to be the greatest obstacle of his life. As he propped himself up he could distinctly hear something crack. His right arm was buried under a piece of rubble (what was presumed as the airplane's exterior), and when he yanked it out and examined it he realised that it was bloody and broken. The sleeves were ripped and drenched in an alarming patch of scarlet. And then there was his head. Allen winced as a sudden, acute pain gnawed at the back of his head.

He looked around. Agglomerations of rubble - remains of the capsized plane - were littered around him. Bits of the engine jutted out, a dull gray in contrast to the piercing white snow. Allen could see bodies of people, carelessly strewn, as if they were rag dolls no longer loved by their owner, fallen from favour and meant to be forgotten. Limbs were bent at a grotesque angle, revealing broken, jutting bones; a baby had lost the top of his head. A flap of skin had been ripped out of a man's face and the coagulating blood was mixed with shards of broken bone and torn muscles. Patches of red dotted the white field. Allen resisted the wad of bile that was slowly making its way up his throat.

_Wonder where I am_

He steadied himself. Counted from one to three and back to one again. He breathed in, disregarding the excruciating paroxysms of pain threatening to make him pass out. Slowly, he dragged himself up and propped his aching and bruised back against a piece of rubble. of If he could sit, he could stand. If he could stand, he could walk. He had to find a way out of this icy hell.

He had to survive. It would take him all his strength, determination... and a large dose of luck. But he wasn't going to back down. Not now, not ever.

* * *

_There were many kinds of darkness._

_There was the spooky, hair-raising kind of darkness, like when you're walking home at night just after watching a horror flick, and it's dark and deserted and owls are hooting and you're certain that something has just brushed at your leg. There's also the cozy, comforting, 'come-to-momma' darkness, like when it's in the middle of a rainy night and you've just lit a candle and you're mum's bringing in teacakes, topped with a generous amount of melting chocolate chips and frosted with sticky icing for supper. Or the sleepy, sluggish darkness, and you feel your eyelids droop and the blankets are just so _warm_, and next thing you know you're dreaming. There's the beautiful darkness, a shooting star making its way across the sky, leaving a magical trail in its wake while you close your eyes and wish._

_And then there's the darkness that swallows you whole. Darkness that devours you, emptying and voiding your heart._

Kanda woke to that darkness.

* * *

Lavi was so bored, his new pastime consisted of counting the times Old Panda's single strand of hair shook in the wind.

'Twenty five,' he said aloud as the long strand twirled gracefully towards the left and made a full circle back.

'What is it?' Asked the old man suspiciously as he adjusted his position on the rug.

'Nothing,' Lavi hastily replied. Old people's hair (or, more accurately, the lack thereof) was a touchy issue.

This whole mountain climbing that had all been the old fart's idea. Because he used to be a member of the national mountain climbing team (upon hearing things, a person who did not know better would merely classify this as an old man's senile bantering and sweep it away. This is largely due to Old Panda's height, which has yet to exceed 1.2m.) (unless you added the hair, but Lavi thought that would be rather underhand), oh, about fifty years ago, he was certain that he still had his former strength and stamina to conquer the alps.

Lavi likened the entire endeavour to a baby's attempt in recapitulating the Egyptian pyramids using Macdonald's golden nuggets and mayo.

So now they were trapped in a goddamn cave in the middle of goddamn nowhere because of a goddamn snowstorm. In a moment a yeti would appear and end his miserable existence on this goddamn earth once and for all. Preferably by firstly squishing out his innards from his throat, then pulling the clammy, viscous intestines out in a string, chomping on it vociferously and using his toenails as a toothpick afterwards and has sexy hair as a floss and...

'...Oi! Are you listening?' Lavi snapped out of his reverie. Old panda had just thrown a sock at him. It smelt like regurgitated cheddar.

'Err, you were saying?'

'I just heard the radio,' repeated old panda. The _radio _was a metal box made up of scrap metals and bits and piecies of plastic. It intercepted radiowaves when pleased and (this happened more often than not) spat out bits and pieces of nonsense when annoyed. Ocassionaly it would turn on when left alone, like an attention seeking toddler angry at being neglected. Apparently the old man crafted it in his youth and became his pride and joy ever since. No amount of talking would get him to exchange it for a more reliable device that did not blast 'hit me baby, one more time' halfway in the middle of the night. 'There's been a plane crash somewhere near our area.'

Lavi's ears pricked up. 'Whoa, so it means we get to pick on the valuable remains?'

He was rewarded with another sock aimed at his face. 'No! It means that we get to save the passengers!'

From mountain conquering heroes to lifesaving heroes. This was getting from bad to worse. 'But everyone's probably already dead,' Lavi pouted. What used to endear him to the old panda only rewarded him with a blow on his face now.

'We're going, and that's it,' the old man spat. 'First thing tomorrow.'

He turned over and wrapped himself in his sleeping bag. The message was clear. That was to be no more arguments, unless Lavi fancied a sock stuffed up his mouth. Lavi wrinkled his nose. While it was true that the old panda was morally sound, he had never been one for such daring, neckbreaking chivalrous knight-in-shining-armour activities. Old panda had always been an observer - quiet but perceptive, silent but sentinent, never the hero.

Lavi sighed. Whatever it was, tomorrow was going to be a tedious, back-breaking day.

* * *

**I would love to continue, but I'm down with tonsillitis and it's hurting like a bitch. D: To make things worse, my brother is screaming like a hobo. _For no goddamn reason_. So if the story is offensively short and has an atrociously low quality, I shall not be blamed.**

**Chapter one shall come... soon... probably... someday... when I feel like it. Okay, at least until my holidays start officially. D: It's supposedly our break now but my horrible teachers insist in us going back to school. Pure, unadulterated evil, I say. D:**


	2. WIP

WIP :D

Am currently trying to redo 6 chapters chock full of grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, punctuation mistakes, cheesey lines, cry-worthy crap, plot holes, and so the list continues! :D


	3. Blinded

WIP :D

Am currently trying to redo 6 chapters chock full of grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, punctuation mistakes, cheesey lines, cry-worthy crap, plot holes, and so the list continues! :D


	4. Embedded in ice

WIP :D

Am currently trying to redo 6 chapters chock full of grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, punctuation mistakes, cheesey lines, cry-worthy crap, plot holes, and so the list continues! :D


	5. Lost

WIP :D

Am currently trying to redo 6 chapters chock full of grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, punctuation mistakes, cheesey lines, cry-worthy crap, plot holes, and so the list continues! :D


	6. Of realities and dreams

WIP :D

Am currently trying to redo 6 chapters chock full of grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, punctuation mistakes, cheesey lines, cry-worthy crap, plot holes, and so the list continues! :D


	7. Chapter 7

I've shamelessly uploaded the new, revised CHAPTER ONE! :D

Feel the eggcitement!

You'll have a look, yes? :D


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